


Dirty Dishes

by Entropyrose



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Bottom Matt, M/M, Matt is a pissy bottom, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7706464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entropyrose/pseuds/Entropyrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title says it all. Frank wants a little action and Matt's busy doing dishes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Dishes

Dirty Dishes

So Matt has himself elbows-deep in scummy water. Not like he doesn’t have a dishwasher, but it’s only himself and Frank and the occasional guest. Neither he nor Frank eat in a lot, though they have both *sworn* to get better at enjoying a home-cooked meal once in a while. On the list of monotonous household chores, Matt prefers doing dishes, at least when he’s not pre-occupied. He likes the feel of the warm, sudsy water as it beads up on his arm-hair. He even enjoys the squishing sensation of the half-eaten baked potato as he jams it into the garbage disposal. It’s dirty and oddly satisfying and it fascinates him. 

That’s when he realizes he just spent five minutes of his life analyzing the pile of scummy pots and pans that has collected over the last few days, the ones he just got around to washing. He runs a plate through the clear running water in the empty right-sink, his fingers flowing over the smooth porcelain, double-checking it for particles the first scrubbing may not have caught, before stacking it alongside the others and plunging back into the soapy side. 

Frank sidles up to him, purposefully bumping his hip, and Matt doesn’t quite know how, but he can sense Frank’s grin. 

“Good job on the ribs,” Matt offers. He is rewarded with a kiss to his temple, which turns into a nibble on his earlobe. He swings his head away, flashing a corrective look at his husband. “Hey, working here.”

Matt shivers when Frank’s rough fingers trace up his elbows and play with the ends of his shirt sleeves, slowly pushing upward to reveal his nicely shaped biceps. Matt’s skin is hot underneath; they went to the beach today and Matt stayed a little too long in the water for his spf-whatever-it-was sun lotion. Matt steps back, his heel connecting with Frank’s naked toes, and Frank grunts a little. Frank’s silence lets Matt know how things are going to go; Matt swallows dryly, feeling the heat rise to his face and fighting the urge to bite his bottom lip. 

Frank’s nosing his earlobe again, his wide tongue flicking out to lick a solid stripe of wetness up Matt’s neck, the breath from his flared nostrils tickling Matt’s cheek. Matt’s breath hitches and Frank is suddenly rutting up against him, bumping his hips into the counter of the sudsy sink. His thumbs are looped into the waistband of Matt’s jeans, teasing the skin that stretches over his hip-bones. Matt shifts away from the cupboard handle that is digging uncomfortably into his thigh. 

Matt seeks another dish and his fingers latch on to Frank’s coffee cup. Absentmindedly, he shoves the wet rag into the ceramic orifice and twirls it around under the water. Frank’s tongue is flicking out over his teeth, accentuating his bite-hold on Matt’s neck with a wet fluttering sensation that causes Matt’s knees to shudder. “Frank…” Matt means to groan in protest, but it comes out like a hoarse whimper. He uses the only leverage he has while staying on-task—his perfectly round, rugged ass—and juts back against Frank’s hips. The swelling bulge between Frank’s legs fits snugly between the pockets of his jeans, between the two denim-clad mounds of flesh and muscle and Frank lets out a soft hiss. “Sorry,” Matt says, straightening himself against the counter. He runs the cup through the clean water and deposits it in the drainer. 

“Don’t be, sunshine,” Frank finally utters, his hands exploring the seat of Matt’s pants. “But this view ain’t helping me any.” 

Matt scoffs and grabs another dish. “Can you wait a minute? I’m sort of occupied, here.” 

“What’d be the fun in that?” Frank mutters. His hands have found their way around Matt’s waist, pulling him close again, Matt’s back muscles rubbing against Frank’s pectorals. 

“…doing this on purpose,” Matt mutters. 

“Mhhhmmm, yeah…” Frank’s fingers have found their way underneath Matt’s thin tee shirt, fingers rolling over his toned abs as if they were harp strings. Matt’s head bobs forward and he props both elbows onto the counter to keep his legs from buckling beneath him. Frank bumps his hips against Matt’s round ass, begins a rhythm that is slow but deliberate. 

Matt gets ahold of himself long enough to cup some of the water in his palm and toss it Frank’s direction and it splashes Frank’s face before he can dodge it. 

Frank sputters, shooting the liquid out of his mouth and shaking his head like a wet Rottweiler, but his hold stays firm. “Ohhh, you’re gonna pay, Murdock.” 

“Oh, am I?” Matt chuckles a little, sliding his hand around the bottom of the sink in search of remnants. His hand slides over a long, smooth blade. “Hold up,” he says. “Knife.” 

“Oh.” Frank lets up a little, contenting himself with ribbing his fingers over Matt’s smooth chest as Matt washes the blade. “I think I know what you want,” he teases gruffly into Matt’s ear, his hands leaving the warmth of Matt’s chest and dropping into the soapy water.

“What’re you—?” Matt snorts, his back going rigid. “Frank, that water’s filthy.” 

“Is it?,” Frank purrs into his ear. 

Matt feels the blush crossing his face and dips his head. 

“You know, Red, you’re not so big and tough. Here I thought you were a lady’s man and all, knew all there is to know. Turns out…” His soaked, soapy hands disappear under Matt’s shirt as soon as the knife is stashed, and he clamps down on Matt’s nipples. 

Matt jolts backward, one hand flying out of the water to loosen Frank’s grasp. Frank uses his body as leverage, flattening Matt against the counter and grinding his aching erection into his ass. “Let go,” Matt growls. 

“That a threat?,” Frank pushes, thumbing over the growing buds, lubricating them with the slickness of the soap-water.

“This is a new shirt, you know.” 

“I know.” Frank squeezes and Matt mewls, his head rolling back to Frank’s neck, the tendrils of his cinnamon hair tickling Frank’s adam’s apple. Frank pops Matt’s earlobe into his mouth and sucks.“God, baby…” 

“Mmmh…” Matt’s wet hand grabs a fistful of Frank’s thick curls and he arches back, presenting his ass to Frank to be thoroughly dry-humped. Frank is so hard that Matt can feel the head of his dick as it bulges outward, burying itself into the warm place between Matt’s thighs. He can hear his own heart beating rapidly in his chest, his breathing quickening to the pace that Frank sets with his hips. The scratch of Frank’s chin stubble sends sparks down Matt’s neck, to the base of his collar bone, where Frank bites down and sucks hard, marking his prize. He jumps when Frank drags a thumb-nail through the duct, bumping backwards. “Owh!” He jabs Frank’s rib with his elbow, and Frank laughs. 

“Oh, come on sunshine, you like it rough.” 

Matt unfastens the drain at the bottom of the basin and the sink gurgles as it swallows the water down. He does his best to ignore the ongoing molestation as he gives the hand-wash a few quick pumps and rubbing his hands underneath the clean water. Frank pulls at Matt’s shirt, dragging it off of him as Matt turns around. “You are incorrigible,” Matt says, draping his arms across Frank’s shoulders. 

“You’re irresistible,” Frank coos, walking him backwards, in the direction of the living room couch. 

Matt presses a kiss against his lips and smiles.


End file.
